


played this game before

by eliotkeats



Category: High and Low: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliotkeats/pseuds/eliotkeats
Summary: Making Murayama squirm never gets old.





	played this game before

They’re in one of Oya High’s gutted outbuildings, and it’s early enough that the light filtering through the shattered window is pale and green-gray. The sun has dragged itself over the horizon, but it’s still chilly out; there’s goose-bumps prickling across Murayama’s bare skin, on the soft paunch of his abdomen and on his hips where Furuya’s gripping him, thumbs digging against his skin.

The mattress is stiff beneath Furuya, scratchy against his cheek and chin, and the hard spring coils grind painfully into the bone of his hip. Slick coats his chin as he licks along the inner folds of Murayama’s labia. Murayama gasps and Furuya knows it’s not enough for him. Fuck, he must be feeling empty right now. He feels himself hardening at the thought but knows better than to do anything about it. Not yet.

When he seals his mouth around the hard, swollen tip of Murayama’s clit and sucks, Murayama _swears_ , hips stuttering against Furuya’s face. His knees, pushed to either side, are trembling with the effort of staying apart and not clamping around Furuya’s head, hands tugging at Furuya’s hair hard enough to sting.

Making Murayama squirm like this never gets old, Furuya thinks, smirking inwardly. He adjusts his grip on Murayama’s hips and shifts his position a little, licking deeper at the wet heat between Murayama’s legs until he feels the other man shudder and the muscles of his opening spasm and tense around Furuya’s tongue. His scalp stings at another vicious tug and Murayama breathlessly warns him, “Don’t fucking tease, you prick.”

He almost grins at that. However, if he doesn’t get Murayama off, it’s going to be him, his hand, and his hard-on, so…

He drags his tongue across the velvety hood of Murayama’s clit, swirls the tip of his tongue around the sensitive glans, and Murayama comes with a gasp that turns into a groan.

Furuya licks the taste of Murayama off his lips and wipes his mouth on his sleeve before crawling up the mattress and laying down next beside Murayama, who’s riding out the aftershocks with his eyes closed, right hand between them clenched in a white-knuckled fist.

“Good?” Furuya asks with a grin when Murayama finally looks at him.

“Not bad,” Murayama says grudgingly, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a smile. He looks pointedly at the bulge in Furuya’s pants and pushes himself up one elbow, still a little shaky. “Want me to take care of that?”

Furuya’s already half-hard when Murayama unzips his pants and takes him out, spitting into the palm of his free hand as he does so. “Tell me what you like about me.”

They’ve played this game before; so long as Murayama likes what he hears, he’ll keep touching Furuya.

“I — hell,” Furuya stumbles when Muruyama slides his hand down Furuya’s cock until his long fingers are wrapped around its base, and stay there, annoyingly still. ”I like your hips.”

“Yeah?” Murayama says, low. He begins jerking Furuya off. “You like holding them down?

Furuya lets his head fall back against the pillow. “Yeah.”

“What else?”

“Your hands.”

Murayama rubs his thumb over the sensitive slit of Furuya’s cock, pre-cum dribbling over his fingers he does so. “You like ‘em like this, on your hard cock?”

A groan catches in Furuya’s throat and he rolls over so Murayama can get a better grip on him.

Murayama laughs, quick and high and sharp. “Guess that’s a yes, huh. Anything else?” His breath shudders for a moment as Furuya leans in and carefully closes his teeth around a stiff, dark nipple. His chest is flat as any average man’s, fat stores broken down by exercise and the hormones Furuya’s seen stored in his locker. Even so, some days are no-touch days. This isn’t one of them. He doesn’t push Furuya away, so Furuya keeps doing what he’s doing, using tongue and teeth.

Murayama’s strokes quicken until Furuya’s hips buck into his grip, chasing the sensation, and he comes into Murayama’s hand with a short, guttural sound. While he’s still catching his breath, Murayama wipes his hand off on the already stained mattress and raises an eyebrow.

“You didn’t say anything about my mouth.”

Furuya snorts, licks his dry lips, and curls his fingers in the shaggy hair at the nape of Murayama’s neck. “I like _that_ best when you’re not talking.” He tugs Murayama towards him and kisses him mid-eye roll.


End file.
